


Anneliese Skywalker (Genderswap AU)

by jairyn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Anisoka, Brotp, F/F, Femanakin, Genderbend, Genderswap, Lesbian, Sexuality, Slow Burn, Star Wars - Freeform, True Love, anne skywalker, anneliese skywalker, otp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25514848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jairyn/pseuds/jairyn
Summary: Life is difficult for Anne Skywalker, that was nothing new, it always had been. But being touted as some chosen one while also often being invisible or ignored was a difficult situation. After years of torment as a slave, years of isolation and conflict as a Jedi and the rejection of the person she’d most craved, things were looking pretty bleak. At least until she was given a cute, spunky little padawan to care for. Will her feelings for Ahsoka grow into more than just her apprentice? Will Ahsoka consider her an option if they do? Will them finding hope and comfort in each other change the course of the galaxy’s events as we know them?This is a genderswap AU, where Anakin becomes Anneliese.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Anakin Skywalker/Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 14
Kudos: 28





	Anneliese Skywalker (Genderswap AU)

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, if you’re homophobic or don’t like genderswaps, this isn’t for you. This is a fun experiment for me and I want to explore it. I don’t want to hear about why I’m wrong or that would never happen or that I’m ruining your favorite characters.
> 
> Secondly, I do not believe Ahsoka is a lesbian, or even really bisexual for that matter. But I have believed for a long time, even before this idea came to be, that IF the right woman came along, she could potentially be tempted. And since Anakin is who I believe she loves more than anyone, I feel like female Anakin could very well be that woman that tempts her. No I am not in any way, shape or form randomly switching her sexuality just to serve the purpose of this anisoka story, I’m just wanting to explore if it could’ve happened and I really think it could.
> 
> For the purposes of what I wanted to explore, only Anakin’s gender is being swapped. She is still into women, and while there are some changes in backstory (mainly the intensity or degree she dealt with certain things - like female slaves being more likely to be abused than male slaves), most of the main variables remain the same leading up to the beginning of this story. 
> 
> I just really wanted to explore how Anakin’s life could be different simply by changing his gender. Because knowing how women are treated in our own society, I started wondering if femanakin would get away with some of or do some of the things that male Anakin did. And while I want it to still very much feel like Anakin, I also have to make considerations for the way women think and behave versus men. Like maternal instincts and how they communicate or bond with each other.
> 
> Also I may be switching the rating to Mature later depending where I go with it, but there will be warning before any chapters with explicit content.

Unruly. That was the word that best described her mess of wavy curls of blondish-brown hair that sat on her head. Depending what she was into with each mission, it was nearly impossible to tame it. It was a nightmare to brush each night. It resembled the nest of an ossery, as though the very wind weaved it together in complex patterns that fingers alone could not undo. She sighed at her reflection and dropped her hands in her lap.

But unruly could be used to describe more than hair. In fact, it was probably Obi Wan and the council’s favorite word used to describe her. Though none had used it in her presence, she’d seen them look at her with the same disdain she was now studying her reflection with. There were times she wished she could just chop it all off and be done with it. To replicate the male padawan look with nothing but a small ponytail out the back and a long tight braid from the scalp down the right side of her face. But despite what a pain her hair was, she did like it. It was the only feature she liked about herself. 

But she shouldn’t admit that, especially out loud. It wasn’t the Jedi way to be vain. Maybe once she’d liked her bright blue eyes that complimented the color of her hair, but they’d dulled over the years; perhaps not in color but in luster. While she enjoyed her training and all the fascinating things she was learning, the agony of missing her mother was getting worse and worse.

How long had it been now? It seemed like a lifetime ago. Thinking about her hair made her drift back to the time when her mom would brush it every night. The way they’d laugh and tease each other or spend time experimenting on each other’s hair. For the day to day, it was often up; twisted and tied out of the way so one could work in the unbearable heat without having a stroke. It was necessary in the junk shop too, since there were so many things your hair could get caught up in, breaking the machine or ripping it straight out of your head. 

There’d been another reason too, she curled her fingers into a fist for a moment. _No don’t go there_. Nowadays though, while she’d occasionally tie it up or braid it loosely down her back, she usually preferred to have it down. At least whenever she could. The dress code rules often required at least putting all but the small braid into a ponytail. While she was proud of her padawan status, she couldn’t wait for the day she could cut it off and wear her hair however she liked. 

She sat back from the mirror and closed her eyes. She wondered if Padmé admired her hair. If it was something she ever thought about. With so many people tending to her and so many elaborate styles and designs it was put into, did she ever give it a thought? Did she ever sit in front of a mirror and admire her beautiful features? If anyone in the galaxy had a right to be vain, it was the queen of Naboo. Or former queen, as she understood it.

She smiled to herself as she recalled her memories of Padmé. Her luscious long dark brown hair, her chocolatey-rich brown eyes. Her long perfect lashes, her small but elegant frame. Skin that looked so soft all you wanted to do was touch it. Did Padmé know how truly beautiful she was? Was she envied by every woman in the room? Or did people see only the surface of her? The charisma, her commanding presence, her intelligent thoughtful perspective, her driving convictions, her passionate pursuit of diplomacy? 

She’d give almost anything to see her again now. She could only be more amazing than she’d already been all those years ago when she’d met her as a little girl on Tatooine. The way her smile had outshone both of the suns, the way she’d radiated as though surrounded by this halo of light. It was what had prompted her to ask if she were an angel, to which she’d gotten the most beautiful sound in return; her laughter.

She was about to curl up, contented in her dreams about Padmé when someone knocked at the door. She almost asked who it was but who else would it be, really? She reluctantly rose and straightened her robes, making sure she was decent before opening the door for her master. 

She ignored the distaste that word ground into her throat every time she had to think it or say it. It didn’t matter if it was a sign of respect within the order, it held far too many painful memories for her. And while maybe Watto hadn’t been the worst master in the world, he couldn’t completely shield her from the abuse female slaves, especially, endured on a daily basis. But even if _he_ didn’t do it, he certainly didn’t prevent other people from doing it.

“Good evening, Master,” she said, waiting until Obi Wan turned his back to spit out the sour taste. 

“Oh good, you’re still awake and dressed. We’ve been called to a situation. The Chancellor has requested us specifically.” Obi Wan barely even nodded at her before jumping right to the point. In fact sometimes it felt like he tried not to look at her. Was her appearance that off putting for him? Or did in some chivalrous program in his head assume it was inappropriate to look at his growing ward? To be perfectly honest though, if it didn’t feel a lot like being invisible, it might be refreshing. It was at the very least, a welcome change to being gawked and whistled at.

“I’m ready, master,” she said obediently, again trying to hide the disdain. She couldn’t wait until she’d be knighted and no longer had to be like ‘yes master this’ or ‘no master that.’ It was just one word but it held so much hatred in her head. Something as a Jedi she most certainly shouldn’t be feeling and yet felt it all the same. How could one not though? After growing up as someone else’s property? After it being ingrained in your brain that you were nothing, you meant nothing, your needs and wants didn’t matter, you got no say in your own life and then after years of that, you’re teleported to yet another world that could be just as cold and unfeeling? While yes, the Jedi didn’t _own_ her, it felt almost the same. And then to be forced multiple times a day to address everyone that really didn’t care that much about you with the same title as those that had abused you before. Why couldn’t she feel hatred for it?

“Excellent,” Obi Wan replied, just as oblivious as he usually was to her feelings of the matter. “Well, come along. I’ll brief you on the way.”

She couldn’t bring herself to say it one more time so she quickly pulled her hair back in a loose braid, bowed her head and shuffled along behind him, pretending to be as invisible as she felt. 

She ignored the gazes of others that always lingered on her too long. Obi Wan always told her to ignore it, but how do you ignore the endless prickly sensation of knowing you’re being watched, studied and judged? She pulled her robe tighter around her shoulders. She didn’t care if they were just curious, she was tired of being a spectacle. She was never seen by the people she most desperately wanted to impress, but never ignored by those she most wished would go away. 

She climbed into the taxi next to him and sighed, staring off at the city lights as it accelerated and lifted off out of the hanger. She didn’t realized she’d drifted a bit until she heard the name she adored. She blinked and focused back on Obi Wan for the first time during the trip. “What about Senator Amidala?” she asked in concern but with a sudden rush of excitement.

“I do wish you’d pay attention,” Obi Wan said in his disgruntled put out tone. “I was saying, the Chancellor has requested our help in aiding the senator.”

“But why?” She felt a flutter in her chest. She was going to see Padmé again, she could hardly contain herself. But she had to, because her master was still beside her. 

“It’s my understanding that there was an attack on her life this afternoon.” Her eyes widened. “Her ship exploded on the landing platform when she arrived on Coruscant.”

“Is she hurt? Is she alright?” she asked worriedly, suddenly wishing this taxi would go faster if that’s where they were headed.

“Watch your feelings, Anneliese,” Obi Wan chided. “They betray you.”

“Aren’t we supposed to have compassion for people, master?” she asked pointedly. “What is the harm of asking if Pad- the _senator_ , is okay after such a terrible ordeal?” She crossed her arms in front of herself and pouted ever so slightly. If only that actually worked.

“It’s not the sentiment I’m concerned about. I know you care for the senator, as you should. But this is not a social call, my padawan. This is business,” Obi Wan huffed in his ‘I know better than you’ tone. She turned away so he didn’t see her roll her eyes. “Yes, the senator is uninjured. Her security chief insisted she ride separate from the ship believing there could be an attempt on her life. It appears he was right.”

“But who would be trying to kill her?” she asked, trying to rein in the emotion in her tone so Obi Wan would answer her questions rather than lecture her. “And why?”

“We’ve only been given the task to protect her, not to go chasing down the people responsible. And you’ll do well to mind your place.” Obi Wan shifted and sat forward as the taxi slowed as it came to a fancy set of apartment buildings. 

“But-“ 

“No buts,” Obi Wan interrupted her. “We are here as protection, nothing more.”

She made a face when he turned his back and then looked around absorbing all the potted flowers and trees, the abstract statuary, the gilded doorframes and glass lifts. This place was far fancier than she was comfortable with but she could see the appeal. Though in all fairness, she’d expect nothing less for a queen. And while she was no longer technically the queen, she would always be a queen in her heart. 

It wasn’t until they were in the lift that it dawned on her she’d not thought anything of her appearance when she’d left the temple. She quickly pulled down her hair and brushed her fingers through it, trying to tame it using the tiny bit of reflection she could see in the glass. Obi Wan cleared his throat and she saw his critical look in the glass and she dropped her shoulders. After taking a deep breath, she expertly braided it behind her again, trying to smooth it out as much as she could. At least it looked better than it had before. 

She couldn’t meet eye contact with her master so she just kept her head down trying her best to contain the excited buzz fluttering around her chest. She wished she’d had more time to prepare for meeting Padmé again, but at the same time she was impatient to be there already. 

“Master Jedi,” the captain of her security greeted Obi Wan. “Thank you for coming, the senator is expecting you.”

She followed Obi Wan and Captain Typho into the luxurious apartment and she took a few moments to take it all in while they discussed the situation. She was trying to listen, but all she was thinking about was Padmé. Would she remember her? Would she still look just as angelic? Would she sound the same? Would she-

“Senator, you remember Obi Wan Kenobi?” She lifted her eyes as Padmé floated into the room looking even more fabulous than she remembered. 

“I appreciate the Chancellor’s concern for my safety,” Padmé said, hardly slowing down. “But as I already told my captain, I’m not leaving Coruscant until this bill has been voted on. It’s too important. Nobody is going to scare me away from my duty.”

She smiled in spite of herself. The senator was still just as fiery as she remembered. She couldn’t stand it anymore and moved over next to Obi Wan, practically begging in the silence for Padmé to remember her, to notice her, to still care when so few others didn’t. But she was so radiant, so beautiful, she could hardly form words. 

“With all due respect, Senator,” Obi Wan said softly, an attempt to calm her down. “We were only assigned to protect you. But as it would be safer to leave, it is what we strongly recommend.” 

Padmé sighed, looking put out. “Protect me if you must, but I’m not leaving.” That tone had been clearly meant to end the conversation. One she’d once used as queen; the power to have the last word and everybody bowed to her. She’d give anything to have that kind of authority. 

“Very well, Senator,” Obi Wan conceded. “You remember Anneliese Skywalker, I presume?”

For the first time since they’d arrived, Padmé turned her rich beautiful brown eyes on her in response to the gesture and she almost melted right there. She wanted to say something clever, something deserving of her angelic laughter, but all she managed to do was stare; memorizing her every feature. The senator stared at her for a moment before recognition seemed to dawn. She swallowed the hurt that Padmé didn’t immediately remember her.

“Annie?” she said in surprise, after what had seemed like an agonizingly long time. “Little Annie?” She ran her gaze up and down her. “My how you’ve grown.”

“I’m not so little anymore,” she smiled at her, resisting the urge to reach out.

“Certainly not,” Padmé breathed as though taken aback by the realization and maybe that was why she hadn’t recognized her. She hadn’t forgotten her, she’d just grown so much. “You’ve changed a lot, but you’ll always be that little girl I met on Tatooine.”

The words were like a blade to the heart. How could she be so dismissive? How could she see everything she’d become and still see her as a child? While she herself didn’t admire many of her features in the mirror, she was aware she was moderately attractive at least. The attention she garnered all over the galaxy from fellow humans and aliens alike told her that. And while her heavy robes covered her maturing features, surely Padmé could see she was no longer a ‘little girl.’ “And you haven’t changed a bit,” she said quickly, trying to recover her composure. “You’re even more beautiful than in my dreams.”

He hadn’t groaned out loud, but she’d felt Obi wan’s reaction to her words and instantly fell back. Padmé stared at her blankly for a minute, though it seemed like an eternity instead. “Yes, well, thank you,” the senator said finally. “Well I’m about to turn in for the night, I’m sure you can coordinate with my captain on security detail.”

With that she was gone, and disappointment trickled through her before she could fully comprehend what had just happened. She’d waited so long to see Padmé again, so many years dreaming about her, hoping there’d be reason for their paths to cross again, but for her to be so dismissive, so... cold, made her heart ache. Perhaps she was still recovering from the trauma from earlier? Maybe she was just tired? Yeah, that was probably all it was. In the morning she’d be much more engaged and talkative, surely. 

“Anneliese,” Obi Wan called, jarring into her thoughts. She reluctantly turned around and headed in his direction. But even as they talked about the security measures for the night, her mind kept wandering back to Padmé in the other room.

Maybe she’d just been shocked to see her, maybe she needed time to process it. Surely Padmé had thought of her too over the years. She couldn’t possibly mean so little to her, could she? Maybe they’d only known each other a short while at the time, but Padmé had taken her under her wing, she’d been so kind, so friendly. And she’d assumed that friendship, no matter how brief, could transcend the amount of time they’d been apart. Maybe that was yet another desperate way to combat the loneliness she felt more and more with each passing day. There had to be a way to get Padmé to notice her, to pay attention to her, to consider her. But somehow she’d need to escape her master to do so.

“Who will stay in her room as guard?” Obi Wan was asking the captain.

“I will,” she said quickly. Maybe too quickly based on the way her master frowned in response. 

“Despite the incident on the landing platform, the senator still does not believe she’s in enough danger to warrant having two Jedi here to protect her. She won’t allow anyone to be in her room,” the guard captain said.

“Well maybe she’s just not fond of the idea of a man guarding her while she sleeps,” she suggested. “I certainly wouldn’t be comfortable with that. There must be a way to reason with her, there’s other ways into an apartment than the front door. Surely we could convince her of that? To leave her unprotected in that room, could be a devastating mistake.”

“I agree with Anneliese, someone should be inside the bedroom as well,” Obi Wan said thoughtfully, stroking his beard.

“I will ask her, but I don’t think she’ll take kindly to the idea,” Captain Typho replied.

“Maybe let me try talking to her?” she asked hopefully. “The senator doesn’t strike me as the type that likes to be bossed around, perhaps I could give her a new perspective on the situation.” Obi Wan and Typho exchanged a glance and then her master finally nodded. 

“Meanwhile we’ll go over the rest of the security plan.”

She swallowed her nerves and headed to the bedroom door. While she definitely wanted to ensure Padmé would be appropriately protected, she also just really wanted to talk to her again. Maybe alone, without the others around, Padmé would be more open and warm. Surely just like as the Queen, there was an expectation to put on a front in public. But she wanted so badly to see the softness again that had lived beneath that. The handmaiden Padmé, when she’d been undercover and not all eyes were turned towards her. The one that laughed and let down her guard rather than was always in the spotlight. It may have been ten years or so, but surely that side of her still existed there. Not that she didn’t love the queen side as well, of course.

She finally raised her hand and knocked on the door, hoping it was loud enough to hear but not so loud it put her on defense. When Padmé appeared a few moments later in a slightly revealing silky robe, with her beautiful dark hair framing her face in delicate curls, she almost lost all ability to speak.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, m’lady,” she finally managed. “I was hoping I could have a word?”

Padmé looked her over and then finally nodded, stepping aside to let her in the bedroom. When the door closed behind them, she gestured to a bench near the closest wall as she seemed to resume her position at her vanity. “I do appreciate the Chancellor’s concern,” Padmé said as she picked up a cloth wipe and started cleaning her face. “And of course it’s good to see you and Obi Wan again, but I think the threat has passed and all of this is unnecessary.” She didn’t sit down.

“Perhaps,” she murmured, trying not to stare at her. “But when one’s life is on the line, why gamble it?”

“My life is _always_ on the line,” Padmé sighed dramatically, and in so doing revealed some skin around her left shoulder. She had no idea why touching it was suddenly so tantalizing. “It’s part of being a leader. And I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“I don’t believe anyone is implying you aren’t,” she whispered. “But since we’re already here, perhaps for one night you can relax and sleep with no fears.”

Padmé finished applying some kind of cream to her face and finally turned to look at her. “Then what do you suggest I do?” she asked, though she could tell by her tone she really wasn’t interested in being told anything. Her mind was made up, there would be no changing it.

“We think it would be a good idea if someone stood guard in here as well,” she tried to say as calmly as possible. “Captain Typho said you’d be against the idea, but I was hoping to change your mind. I can keep watch for you while you rest. I’ll keep you safe.”

Padmé studied her for a few minutes before answering. “You really aren’t that little girl I knew on Tatooine. You _have_ grown up.”

“Ten years will do that, m’lady,” she whispered. 

“So if I agree, does that mean you’ll sit here and watch me sleep?” Padmé crossed her arms just enough to show her disapproval of the idea.

“No, m’lady. I’ll be meditating. Deeply in tune with the force so that I can sense the danger before it happens.”

“And a few meters or a closed door will make all the difference?” It finally occurred to her what she was getting at. How had she forgotten how clever Padmé truly was?

She rolled her lips. “It’s true, we could sense the danger from out there, but it would take longer to get to you. That delay could be the difference between life and death,” she said carefully. 

“I forgot how persistent Jedi are,” Padmé muttered and turned back towards the vanity. She didn’t say anything else for awhile so she just hung back awkwardly, standing there feeling like an idiot. She hadn’t given her permission to stay, but she also hadn’t told her to leave. She tried not to watch her as she brushed her hair, took out her jewelry and wiped the cream off her face. “You’re a good mechanic, see if you can set Artoo up to keep watch in my bedroom.”

“But-“

Padmé stood up. “I appreciate the concern, Annie, but I like my privacy. I may have known you years ago, but people can change. I’m not comfortable sleeping with someone hovering around in my room. If Artoo can’t be programmed to detect any threats, then I will just have to risk it and hope your senses are honed and ready.” Padmé turned down the covers of her bed and started untying her robe. It took her a second to realize she’d been dismissed because she’d been consumed by anticipation of the reveal. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to read for awhile before I go to sleep. Just send Artoo in when he’s ready. Goodnight.”

She shook herself and reluctantly turned to go. “I think you’re making a mistake,” she said, trying to hide her disappointment. 

“Then it’s on my shoulders, not yours.”


End file.
